


she ain't living anywhere, anymore

by forelske



Category: Young Justice
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-28
Updated: 2012-08-28
Packaged: 2017-11-13 01:20:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/497834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forelske/pseuds/forelske
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Tula."<br/>The ghost smiles without a trace of the sadness one usually associates with dying. (Artemis reminds herself, vaguely, that she doesn’t believe in ghosts.)</p>
<p>An undercover Artemis is visited by an old teammate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	she ain't living anywhere, anymore

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a drabble, but it kinda grew from there as I decided that I definitely want these two to be friends. Title's from I Come Home by Catherine Feeny.   
> This is my first time posting here, so really all I'm hoping for is that I don't screw anything up in the posting process...

Artemis looks into the mirror, her eyes not meeting the reflection before her, not wanting to see her own face, the face she thought to be one of a hero, speckled with the blood of the good. No one had died, she had made sure of it, but Tigress had wreaked more damage than she had planned for that night. The mission is wearing her down, and she slips into the villain persona more easily and often than she’d like. It feels too much like home, and not the one she’d found with the team, with Wally.

Artemis steels all the doubts that shoot through her when she thinks of him. She’d been through worse.

Blindly, she feels for her mask and peels it off, not wanting to see it as she casts it onto the ground. Gazing at the glass, she sees herself as she is, the way she knows no one else can, save a choice few. She wants to break the mirror, smash it on the ground for forcing her to acknowledge that _this is what she is now._ Dark, sunken eye sockets hidden by an enchanted necklace, earning her a few concerned looks from Kaldur (you couldn’t take the leader out of that boy). She looks dead.

This, however, is not what makes her start; instead, it is the dim, humanoid blur she spots behind her. Despite her training, she feels no need to attack, all instincts leaving her as she actually moves her arms down, far from a defensive position. She finds herself turning around slowly and saying (without giving her chapped, bloody lips permission), “Tula.”

The ghost smiles without a trace of the sadness one usually associates with dying. (Artemis reminds herself, vaguely, that she doesn’t believe in ghosts.)

“Are you okay?” Tula asks, as if this is any normal conversation.

Sigh. Puff out chest. “Yeah.” Just like any normal conversation.

“You don’t seem it. This mission is dangerous enough, anyway, that I doubt it qualifies as ‘okay’ by a long stretch.”

“Am I hallucinating you?” Of course Artemis is okay.

“Could be. You aren’t, but why believe me?” “Why are you here?”

“I can’t help you.” Artemis snorts. “No offense, but yeah, not seeing a point here.”

It occurs to her that ghosts are the sort of company one should be polite to, but really, she can’t help but fall into their old teammate banter.

“He only cares.”

“Hmm?” Her boot brushes against her discarded mask as she steps toward Tula.

“Wally. He tried to tell you, but you doubt it right? You’re here alone, and you’re starting to think that he didn’t want you to go because he didn’t trust you could do it.”

“Bullshi-“

“It’s because you don’t believe you can do it.” She gracefully moves forward, none of her sharp muscle shifts Artemis is familiar with from sparring.

“You can.”

“He’s too protective.” She doesn’t deny her doubts.

“He’s scared of losing you.”

They stand in silence, as Tula’s words search for somewhere to sink in.

“Do you wish he had been more protective?” Artemis asks instinctively, not sure whether she means Kaldur or Garth. Not sure if that matters. She nearly flinches because she’s almost positive that reminding a ghost ( _she doesn’t believe in ghosts_ ) of their possible regrets is a big no-no in undead etiquette.

Tula smiles brightly, eyes crinkling at the corners in the exact same way they did whenever she’d run into battle, high on adrenaline and adventure, their lives nothing but the now, kicking ass and making a family. ( _The exact same way they did when she ran into battle for the last time_ , Artemis struggles not to think, feeling bile rise in her throat.)

“No,” she replies, her smiling voice soft and wispy, almost lost to Artemis’s ears, yet warm and tender. Enveloping. “Not for a second.”

“Tula...”

Artemis should’ve known it was impossible to hug a ghost or hallucination or whatever, no matter how she tried.


End file.
